The Rotting Gardens
by Umbra viridis -tco
Summary: Timmy Turner has an accident and dies. Someone's being kind enough to bring him back to life. Is the boy lucky or could it be better if he stayed dead? Naturally people want to return given favors when only possible. Is this debt worth paying back?
1. Chapter 1

THE ROTTING GARDENS.

**A**round that time of the year the usually warm summer breeze already gave up on Dimmsdale and slowly turned back from the innocent city to make place for a bit colder winds of the early fall. The weather could easily tell every single wanderer that that evening clearly belonged to the times of late September. A slight chill ran down the Turners' boy spine as he walked down an empty roadside without a jacket, but with heavy shopping bags instead. Not much of a shield from the wind, he knew, but since his mother ordered him to do the grocery right before the stores were about to be closed, he had no choice. He didn't waste his time for arguments only because he was fully aware of the fact that his parents were in the very lead on the list of the most stupid people he ever met in his life.  
He must have watched the weather for a completely different planet, for sure. Nowhere in the news a single word about getting colder, really.  
If he'll get sick because of it, he'll surely kick everyone's ass. This and a useless weather-related wish founded by his godparents. That'll do. The boy already started some serious ass-kicking and wishing calculations and plan in his little head just to keep his mind away from the unpleasant sensation of could pouring onto his body. He kept on marching, completely absent.

The poor thing didn't know if seconds or minutes have passed when suddenly, lights replaced the absence. Lights replaced everything. It was too late. He could swear he heard someone screaming, but it was dark already and-  
* * * * * * *

Light again, but too much for his eyes. It took a moment to adjust. A moment longer than it should. The view was blurry, but it kept getting better and better each second. He tried to focus a bit more and eventually he caught out a silhouette out of the nameless space.  
The silhouette happened to be blue and definitely it was not an inanimate object. Inanimate objects do not say "_hi_".  
And this…well, this said "hi". Timmy wished he could immediately see everything clearly and understand it completely, but unfortunately, Cosmo and Wanda were home in their fishbowl castle. He told them to stay, they've had a hard day and he really wanted them to get some well deserved rest. Now, he really, really regretted his generosity. He made a mental note to self: never allow this happening again.  
Oh, but he was supposed to focus on something else. His vision improved, so it was not that hard anymore. In fact, the situation seemed quite clear. Kneeling before him, was Anti Cosmo at his finest.  
'_You again?_' the boy spat out, trying to give the shopping intruder a disappointed look.  
That glance helped him catch out an interesting detail. Anti Cosmo –sure. However not just that, it was Anti Cosmo with blood on his hands. And on his vest and shirt and around him, in general.  
This had to be bad news, he could tell.  
'_What did you do to me?_' Timmy screamed at the top of his lungs, not giving the man a chance to reply '_What? Why…?_' After the last, probably a rhetorical question he burst out crying.  
This gave the man a moment to form a simple reply.  
'_Poor child, I did nothing of harm to you._'  
The little boy made some efforts to control his crying so he could speak, but his spasms only made it difficult. So many words he wanted to say, so many insults to hurl at the man who always caused him bad luck, so many questions to follow, but his fragile body would not let him speak.  
'_Is this my blood?_' he finally said with great effort.  
'_Yes, it…it is_.'  
'_Then what have you done to me?_' Timmy started again, only louder, this time rage dominating the previous terror.  
The single word "_what_" he kept repeating over and over again, at first he was shivering, then he was coughing, finally he was merely groaning, his voice nearly disappearing, yet his lips formed the same word, like a bad-dream mantra until he got his answer.  
And until there was an answer to be revealed, the man found himself helpless in a way he never did before in his long, long life. The answer was lingering between them all the time, and it was obvious and simple like the construction of a spoon. Yet there wasn't a way to give it in a way that it wouldn't stab like a knife.  
Anti Cosmo knew it, he knew it all along. He know that the given question was an unavoidable one, and so was the answer. He knew basically everything that was there to know, he just didn't know how to behave. No one taught him how to be around those who were worth his comforting.  
Because in the World Before Timmy Turner, no one was.  
Once again, Timmy Turner changed everything.  
This time, unwillingly.  
When the man's face was already out of terrifying expressions to curl into, he tried something that was supposed to be a soothing embrace, but it came out more like a lethal grip. It must have been because lethal grips were the only moves he learnt to perform.  
'_I…am now hugging you._' He informed plainly, just to make the boy sure what was going on at the moment in case he had any doubts, which he probably had.  
Shocked, the boy's body tried to correspond with a loud gulp, but it failed, since the mouth virtually ran out of saliva due to the child's screams and endless one-word questions.  
'_You shall have your answer. Now be a dear, save your mouth and shut up, let me speak instead'_.  
Anti Cosmo's voice was trembling, but was it from excitement or fear the boy couldn't tell. In order to find out, he nodded and let the man proceed with whatever he was about to tell him.  
'_You've…had an accident. And you died_.'  
'_You said it wasn't you!_' It was the first thing that came to the boy's mind. When he thought about it, it seems like a strange reaction for the news about finding himself dead.  
'_I said you've had an accident, not you've had me_!' Anti Cosmo reproached. ' _You were walking near the road with your little head obviously far away, and so was the teenage driver who hit you. Getting jacked off by a whore from the passenger's seat was his excuse, what's yours?_'  
_'It was cause of the weather, and…and why are you being so mean to me, you just told me that I died and, like, you're so rude now!_' And so Timmy Turner was crying again.  
'_I did not mean to be mean, you started your mouth on me, and I…I…snapped…? Listen. Why don't we take a walk, it might help you process it. It would be also easier to explain everything to you when you're not screaming or hissing. Occupy yourself with breathing deeply instead_'  
The Anti Fairy sighed heavily and clapped his hands. More lights ensued.  
As for the boy, he occupied himself with breathing, just as he was told.  
A strange thing, why would he need breathing, if he was, well, dead?  
Now Timmy could see, that he was not in some kind of empty space, but in a very physical environment. It seemed like a park, or maybe, a garden even. A garden, only without flowers, perhaps they didn't grow out yet, the boy thought. He noticed that nothing more but two lanterns were lit up the whole place. It didn't look all that bad but it didn't look good either.  
He also realized that he was lying on some kind of a stone bench, but, taking his so called death into consideration, it might have been a catafalque as well. While he was busy grasping the general view, that strange blue man he knew too good offered him a hand, so he had no choice but to stand up and follow. He felt very weak to say the least, but he assumed it is quite normal for a dead person to feel like that, so he did not complain. 

'_Hey, AC?'  
'What is it?'  
'Is this hell?'  
'No, dear. It's just a special garden.'  
'What does it do?'  
'I wish I knew.'  
'What are we doing here, then? And why do you have to be the first person I get to see after I decease? Shouldn't it be, like, an ancestor, or saint Peter or something?'  
'I suppose I might be the something option. You see child, you are partially dead to be precise.'  
'What the hell do you mean by that? What? I'm twenty percent death-free? Thirty? Talk in a way I could understand you. I'm trying to, trust me, but you're not helping, dude.'  
'You were dead. Very, very, infinitely, fucking severely dead even. You're lucky I was around. Under some conditions, I managed to revive you.'  
'The hell you're talking about! Fairies can't bring people back to life, stupid!'  
'Exactly, stupid.'  
'So…?'  
'I'm not precisely a fairy. I have no need to follow the rules, like Jorgen's dogs do.'_

After that statement, silence crawled in between them out of nowhere. The situation was unusual to say the least. If a man who had nearly ten thousand years on his back couldn't find himself a suiting word, how could it be possible for a sixth grader?  
Still, certain thought wouldn't leave them be. Especially Timmy. He was the dead one on this "party". 

'_Do I want to know why were you around…?'  
'You don't.'  
'Do I want to know why am I so lucky to get saved by you?'  
'You'll have to.'  
'Your tone alone tells me that's one huge debt I'm in now. I'm starting to regret being alive. Looks like everything's going back to normal, sort of. So, what do you want?'  
'Listen…Well, Timothy. Although I do have an extremely extended vocabulary, when it comes to the so called social interactions I believe I'm quite behind compared with other people. I'll say it short. I want…no, I demand you to…be my most close friend. All kinds of physical interactions that I consider appropriate, included.'  
'Oh.'  
_

Anti Cosmo smiled. 

'_And what if I say no?_'

Anti Cosmo stopped smiling. 

'_Then I stop being your savior. And you stop being alive. I trust you have some self-preserving instincts that will help you make the right decision._' 

Timmy Turner stopped breathing for a moment.

'_I think I already prove that your harm is not what I want. From now on, you've got a nomen omen lifetime opportunity to gain nothing, but profits. My desires, boy, did not make me go blind. I know that by force I will not be able to keep you forever, but I am afraid by force is the only way I can get you in the first place. Note how I used a form of the word friendship before _.'  
'_Friendship? I don't think you even know how to use it in a sentence, man!'  
'Do you, by any chance, remember all the good times, when you were alive without my help, I was still incomparably more powerful than you and yet, I never abused you in such a way…? Don't even try to imagine what I could do to you, you might never fall asleep again.'  
_

By the moment Anti Cosmo said that, he was already holding the boy's palm in a much stronger grip, the context of such a simple gesture momentarily changed.  
To think it was merely a glimpse of what danger he could have been into made the boy cringe. Then again, it was the same situation, only the word danger got fixed into friendship and violence changed into debt.  
It's just that if he goes willingly, the foreplay violence is gone –hypothetically there's no getting beaten up before the main horror . And an illusion of lesser humiliation is given –for paying back a debt is a matter of honor.

'_To make it easier for you, let me present you the alternatives_' the man went on, since Timmy still gave no answer, being busy calculating his chances. '_The first option is this_' Anti Cosmo raised his spare hand and placed it right in front of his little debtor's face. The palm was elbow-high covered in blood. '_Took a good look?_' he asked rhetorically an then he hid the hand behind his back. '_We could make that never happen if you take option two, which is…_'  
Option two was supposed to be an interactive presentation. Timmy Turner could register the man's scent, the scent of blood and he could, what's most important –feel his lips and tongue trying to invade his somewhat virgin mouth. Fruitlessly of course until Anti Cosmo helped himself by opening Turner's mouth manually.  
Just as Timmy expected, it was not a beautiful moment. The taste of foreign saliva was like a poison and the tongue found its way to every corner of the not so virgin anymore mouth, just like good diseases do. The general feeling of disgust spread to the maximum extent and that's where the kiss broke off and the boy landed on his knees, spiting and wiping his lips as vigorously as he never did before.  
'_You know, it would be way more fun to you if you only put some heart into it. Your negative attitude is absolutely groundless and it spoils everything for you, lad_.'  
'_Well, fuck you_' Timmy replied and immediately covered his mouth startled with what he just let out of it.  
But then again, his mouth was filthy to the limit even without it, so he decided not to care at least about this single issue.

Anti Cosmo on the other hand was very amused, he let out a sharp chuckle and shared a sharp repartee.  
'_No, no, no, dear. Fuck you. Otherwise, you're dead again._'

'_The world is such a big place, why does it always has to be me?'  
'Are you referring to all of the bad things that tend to happen to you, or just me?'  
'You.'  
'Because I like you a lot.'  
'Great, you could have sent me some cheap flowers, I'd really appreciate it.'  
'Didn't know what kind of flowers you'd like.'  
'The ones that keep you far away from me. These I like the most.'  
'You're allergic to them, you just don't know that yet.'  
'I'm allergic to your face.'  
'By building a wall you're building yourself a grave. I can't believe you really want your mother to cry her eyes out at your funeral, do you want to make her regret the moment she made you buy eggs and bacon to the end of her days? Do you?'  
'Leave my mother out of this, will you.'  
'Sweetheart, none of this will happen to your mom if you only agree to be my friend. I'll even walk you to school and from school and I shall guard you and not a single hair will ever fall off your head. She'll never have to worry and so won't you.'  
'Oh yes, cause, being your private hooker is the best thing in the world that could happen to a kid my age. I'd never be as safe as I will be with you inside me. I hate you, now it's officially personal._' Timmy snarled.  
'_I never said we will go this far when you're this young. As I've already told you, I do not intend to hurt you, I won't force upon you anything that might cause you physical pain. You will never be my hooker because I adore you and respect you. Seeing your lifeless body impacting the asphalt, all that I worship in you literally falling into pieces, with a red, red smudge marking your final journey… it broke my heart which I do not have and made me not have it even more! My world, I am so glad you are going to live after all!'  
'You changed the rules now?'  
'You said yes.'  
'I was sarcastic.'  
'I didn't notice and it doesn't matter.'  
'It does, it so, so does. You've got no idea…'  
'I've got no idea why are you trying to change your wonderful situation into roadkill. Roadkill…it's going to be your new cute pet-name, alright?'  
'You're mad.'  
'For you only._' Anti Cosmo smiled innocently once more and patted his little friend prey on the head.  
'_And don't call me a roadkill.'  
'Fine, Timothy. Anything else?'  
'As long as I'm not legal you're so not getting any!_' Timmy growled and threatened his so called friend with a finger.  
'_Oh, of course I'm not. And what happens once you're legal, hm?'  
'I got this feeling in my spine that once it happens, I'd tell you to plug me out of the living-room._'  
'_Oh, good one indeed. We'll discuss this matter tomorrow, when your school is over. I'll pick you up and help you with your homework.'  
'I think you're trying too hard.'  
'We just don't want you to get hit by a car again, do we?'  
'By the way, did anything happen to that jackasses who hit me?'  
'You mean those who killed you?'  
'I don't like the word you just used, but yes.'  
'Nothing…Yet.'  
'As I said, don't try too hard.'  
'And you don't argue too much. Now, I think it's about the time you returned home from shopping._'

Anti Cosmo simply took out his wand out of his pocket and within a few moves he replaced the bloodstained clothes for new ones, got a new bag filled with grocery, so in general when he teleported himself and the boy right into his Dimmsdale backyard, the poor little boy who was a roadkill and yet wasn't one was all shiny and new. And of course, depressed.

'_You should get some healthy sleep now, while I take care of our garden, okay? '  
'How?'  
'I don't know that yet, but I'll ask around. Now, go.'  
'I'm leaving with joy._' Timmy rushed to the door without blessing Anti Cosmo with a single goodbye loathing stare.  
'_I love you!_' The man shouted for goodnight.  
'_Don't_.' he could hear right before the door slammed.

A wave of cold ran down the blue anti Fairy and for a moment the horrible feeling stayed deep inside of him. Was it because of the late September night? He didn't know.  
One thing he knew, though.  
He felt like a roadkill.  
And the mysterious garden with its flowers long, long rotten awaited his comeback and its unavoidable restoration.  
He had this unpleasant feeling that he was supposed to be its new gardener and this occupation might cause him lots of problems in the nearest future.  
But meaningless like last year's snow it was if not less. Finally, he had a Timmy Turner of his own.  
Those shorts he once got for the boy, they were still waiting. Now it's their time. 


	2. Chapter 2

Although it took the boy a lot of time, He did fall asleep eventually. Unfortunately however, the REM phase was no asylum for his troubled, tormented and tired mind. The short dreams were not as sinister as the evening's reality, but still they composed an eerie, pain causing symphony of disgust. It definitely was not Timmy's cup of tea, but all he could do was to hear it out anyway. In the morning he would probably regret he was not able to wake himself up manually. If he only had the time and place for any more regrets that is.  
Silhouettes, lights, plants, hands, stench-consisting fog, sounds, noises, screams, lettuce, milk –torn apart fragments of something bigger and unknown, if he could only make any sense of it. Static pictures devoid of meaning. Nonsense that was for sure, even for a dream. He had many awkward dreams in the past but none of them was thin unexplainably disturbing. To add to that overwhelming oddity, he was aware that he was asleep, how was it called? Lucid dreaming? It didn't matter now, the film or whatever he could call it was shifting.  
Drifting in a river of spilled milk was a stone bench. Looking at the bizarre view from a small distance was he Timmy Turner himself. Or at least some shapeless part of him, his mind, maybe. He couldn't tell. And he didn't care. One thing he realized immediately however –in this very nightmare bodies were being sold separately. He fixed his gaze on the only thing in the endless white and almost instantly it was obvious to him why his body was not in its proper location. It was simply lying on that bench –motionless, nude, horridly pale, almost blue, literally blue. And exposed to everything, assuming there was anything to be exposed to. The boy stared at the picture frightened. Until now he had no idea his own vivid imagination was capable of creating sights this gruesome, so simple and yet unsetting, ghastly even. He hoped that it was nothing more than his imagination, he really did. Everything was so silent that silence itself evolved into a constant, ear-ripping ringing sound. It was impossible to be this silent, Timmy thought, just as it was impossible for a piece of stone to float on milk. The part containing his body, he preferred not to even consider happening in order to stay sane.  
Possible or not, this view was not to stay undisturbed forever. The milk gurgled viciously as if it was a wild animal in danger. Enraged it awoke rabid, foamy waves which after a moment of storm spat out what seemed to be their problem. A familiar humanoid fleshmade figure, a being. One that was moving and probably living. With effort it crawled up the bench and kneeled next to his body, corpse or whatever he was meant to be out there. It turned to face him and the given stare was so intimidating Timmy no longer felt like a nonexistent or at least purely spiritual, transparent observer. He was, without a doubt, a prey. Both he and his body of course.  
It was not a happy epiphany, but at least thanks to the eye contact who the it was. It was not only humanoid and somehow familiar, it was Anti Cosmo. Not that it helped. Probably the last person he ever needed to see in his sleep, especially interacting with his defenseless body. Fantastic, great, obliviously awesome even, what else could probably go wrong.  
Soon Timmy learned that many things could, apparently. For as fast as he gained it, Anti Cosmo lost his interest in the boy and moved it onto something more reachable: the body.

Suddenly, most of the earlier given elements began to make a whole, to some extent sense-making thing. The nightmare's Anti Cosmo was reenacting the most nauseating stunt he performed the past evening. And Timmy thought he washed it off of himself. Oh well, he obviously didn't. He could have as well spend another two hours on showering in painfully hot water and forcing loads of toothpaste and soap down his mouth to take the filth away. Maybe he wouldn't be dreaming this if he did. Yeah, maybe.  
Reruns on TV sucked. Reruns in his dreams were way beyond sucking, even God almighty wouldn't most likely reach this far. No, then again, it was not a mere rerun, no. It was an exclusive director's cut of some sort. Or even a mythic lost lurid episode of something seemingly innocent that is mentioned in the ether but nowhere to be found. Timmy cringed at the tasteless comparison his thoughts served him. Title of the episode: kiss scene extended, or something. It didn't matter, it was so hideous in itself it didn't even need a name. Things that should not exist should not be named, after all. And that, did that exist?  
Even though Timmy was watching it in third person, it came back to him as real as it was in the first place. In slow motion, time consuming, precise and heavily pierced with details frame by frame. Details his consciousness never bothered to show him, but his diligent brain never forgot and now revealed.  
The fact that his body was numb and separated from him made no favourable circumstance–Timmy was still experiencing the same horror. Correction, it was not the same it was worse. The first time he closed eyes and didn't see anything. Now he did.  
That cruel and unfriendly mouth lowering to meet his unaware face. Those green eyes, eyelids squinted as if weighed down by the neediness , scanning and savouring their prize. The moist warmth of the air contaminating his skin as a blue pair of lips got close enough, inducing contact. The strange and unpleasant itch a pair of sharp teeth gave by playfully teasing his invaded lips. The teeth must have been venomous, it felt like a toxin being released into his system. The fortress was broken as his jaws slightly parted, controlled by an alien, enemy force. A tingling sensation as the invader, slick and almost reptile-like tongue brushed the upper lip goodbye before it entered and desecrated his temple, the Temple of Turner. And it was not hallowed anymore, now it was just a hollow to explore, poison, abuse, flood it with filth and make it echo with repelling, smacking noises until it is full. The tongue that happened to be skilled in such inconspicuous form of destruction, it could make Gene Simmons cry. Timmy was sure he was exaggerating this one, but it felt as if it was going throat deep nonetheless. Since when did the law of physics apply to nightmares and Anti Cosmo, anyway. It seemed like eons to pass, but the feral kiss ended eventually, as it previously did in the real life. The cunning, merciless abuser rose his head, face endlessly content, to look at the terrified soul once more. He then grinned slyly, a thin thread of saliva still connecting both mouths like a string of a crystal spider's web. A purely disgusting sight, almost physically bitter. He stared at the boy, his eyes gleaming with triumph, thick eyebrows narrowed, implying something. A bold statement, a declaration of possessing and further colonizing this land-the body. And a warning. Perhaps mostly the warning. Unexpectedly, he spoke in his usual, irony filled tone:

'_Where were your tonsils, lad? I could not find them._'

And then he sunk into his poor mouth again, and he did it with so much verve he caused the bench to flip and both the torturer and the victim to drown in or maybe dissolve within the sea of milk. The loud splash made the boy wake up. Or maybe it was the alarm clock.  
Either way, it was about time.

In disguise, lurking in the Dimmsdale suburbia, Anti Cosmo like the good guardian he considered himself being, watched the gloomy, little apple of his eye enter the school bus. Of course, with beloved godparents in his backpack. Normally, the man would be jealous, but this time, he was even quite content. It meant that for the time being, his boy was safe to some extent so he, for a moment could drop his guard and do his job. And what a terrific job he had for today-the world would tremble if it knew. But he referred to it as a good deed.  
Good deeds- something he rarely blessed the world with, it felt like a holiday, it made him burn with excitement.  
As soon as the bus got out of his sight, he deserted the spot as well.

She had a bad day. A bad day after a horrible night, it had to be said. In one moment, she was getting the long craved attention from the man of her recent, high school dreams, sharing a moment of lustful oblivion and in the very next second the only thing she had in her face was this little kid out of nowhere, hitting the mask of her dad's car and then sliding down lifelessly, slowly and she could register all the horrid details painted on his innocent face before it went blank, dead and everything around covered in thick crimson. And it wasn't all to it, no. They got out of the car right away and there was nothing. No kid, no blood, no nothing. The car was completely intact though she could have sworn she heard the hit, she saw glass breaking, blood covering the sharp leftovers of the front window and of course, she saw the body.  
And yet –there was nothing.  
She had nightmares all night long, the child's face imprinted in her mind, the lurid, endless seconds playing in a loop. And his terrified eyes, he already knew there would be no salvation. Blue, plate-sized eyes, almost like her little brother's. She cringed at the thought. She was not relieved by the opportunity the sudden disappearance of the tragedy might give her, she couldn't believe that she was just seeing things. Sure, she drank some, but just a little, she smoked some, but even less than little, and it all seemed too real.  
Although it was still very early in the morning, she already checked the crime scene, twice. The same nothing as yesterday's nothing.  
And her boyfriend hasn't called her since…

She was about to leave for school, doing it only because she believed she might gain some useful information, when the doorbell rang. Not expecting any guests, especially at this hour, she checked the peephole first. On the other side of the door was a rather tall, slender man, in his early thirties possibly. He could be slightly older than that, maybe he was simply well conserved. He was dressed very formally, too formally for eight in the morning in Dimmsdale. His hair was also suspicious, stylized too neatly in an old-fashioned manner, and a detail that did not fit the picture, it seemed blue. He had to be a foreigner, and this could be a new alternative fashion of some sort, besides, his skin was too pale for this area. He could be an insane bible-seller as well. Either way, it was her job to open the door politely and tell him to get the fuck out her yard. She just was too baffled after yesterday to think much, she had no idea what to say. She just opened the damn door and stared at the guest. He spoke out first.  
'I know what's bothering you lately' instantly, she could tell she was right at least with the foreigner part. 'It seems that we both can't get a certain blue-eyed boy out of our heads. Our reasons, however probably differ.'

'Oh my God, so someone knows! How…how is he? ' she spat out, not sure whether she was more relieved or scared.  
'Fallen, cold and dead. What did you expect, silly?' The mysterious man snorted at her words. 'I thought you've had enough time to take a good look.'  
'Am I in trouble?'  
The man shrugged.  
'You see, if it was for me to decide, your stupidity and your natural need of being a whore helped me a lot and probably I should be grateful, but since I'm here because of someone, you are in something more than trouble, I'm afraid' he offered her a well-crafted smile. But a smile didn't go along with his words. Or maybe the words didn't go along with his nice smile.  
'Because of who?' She inquired. The police she could stand, but if it were the parents it would be too much.  
'Because of the dead little boy, who is very sad by my side now.'  
'I'm sorry!' She burst out crying.  
'I'm sure you are' he said plainly. 'But being sorry never helped anyone and it won't help you either. Now, if you don't mind, time is money and I'm not really a lavish man, especially when I'm dealing with scum like you, darling.'  
Before she could do anything, it was too late.  
Anti Cosmo's head melted with joy as he caught out the first miracle of death today: the girl's face had the very same expressions his little boy had, before his ruthlessly taken away soul dissolved into nothingness.  
Another good thing –she suffered longer and incomparably more before he finally let her die.  
So early and it already was a beautiful morning.  
And it was about to get better.  
Small and simple things were good, yes.  
Perhaps that was the reason why he liked the boy so much.

Stupid dead kid that…wasn't there. He was enjoying himself much, and he surely did have bright perspectives for more. And he would obtain it if it weren't for the ghost. It had to be a ghost, what else could it possibly be –a cow? It didn't make a difference to him, but the slut… Well, apparently the dumb slut was even dumber than he calculated. First she went batshit insane, then naggy and lastly, too inquiry. What if they really hit something? She would tell the pigs right away, because that's how fucking moral and just she is. Good for the bitch, then. It was not what he expected for his girl to be.  
No way he's calling her ever again. He would let her wait, let her search for a kid that wasn't there and let her go officially crazy. And he'll watch it with popcorn.  
Doorbell. Who the fuck. Oh, a lousy, stalking Christian. What a nice way to start the next, mockery filled day. He smiled at the intruder, pure contempt radiating from his lips.  
Unexpectedly, the man returned him the very same smile, if not even a more vicious one.

'Do you believe in Jesus Christ as your savior?' the man asked, still smiling, venom dripping that smile, burning out holes in the patio…almost.  
'Fuck you' he said, plainly.

He was about to drift in his instant triumph, but it was never given to him. Instead, he got ripping pain in his chest. Worst pain he ever experienced, and boy, he did have lots of opportunities to experience it. But this, nothing would beat this. He wanted to say something, another "fuck you", perhaps, but the only thing that was getting out of his mouth was blood.

'Good' said the fancy little bastard. 'I don't think he believes in you either. Never mind that, my young fellow; we are about to make a deal. Here's the thing: once you're there, tell the man of the place I'm going to drop by soon. For this small favour I shall grant your biggest ambition…and from what I see you've always wanted to be truly a heartless man, is that correct?'  
His usually mocking eyes shone with fear. To Anti Cosmo it was utmost beautiful, like a perfect rainbow, like diamonds. The Anti Fairy pulled slightly, happy to show his interlocutor he was being serious, but to his disappointment it came out that the little shit he dealt with was dead already. He let out a small groan.  
'Why is that the said to be tough guys always die the fastest, huh?'  
He threw the heart out, it was a defective product, anyway. 

Timmy had a bad feeling about this day. Just before he left the house his mother told him he smells like a dead jackal mixed with fresh feces. And it seemed to be more than her morning whim, since everyone, literally everyone refused to sit next to him on the bus, his best friends and second-league friends included. It occurred to him that maybe it was just a whole new level of misery, one where you not only feel but also smell like shit.  
Well, either this or Anti Cosmo did to him something more. Something he didn't bother to tell him about…or…just yet.  
Still, instead of getting to know it, if he could choose he would prefer the odor rather than ever seeing that scum again.  
The boy really hoped yesterday was one of his marvelous five-minutes lasting ideas that don't count later, this would mean he-Timmy, would be left alone. Until the next brilliant idea, that is.

But he didn't believe in this, really. This time it smelled like a big thing. It smelled worse than he did, most likely.

In this case, a certain precaution should be made. Just in case.  
Just…in…case…  
Once he got sure he was alone, and he was, since everyone, even Crocker, avoided him today. He called his Fairies. They've noticed the sudden change in his behavior and mood right away last night, but he told them nothing. It's not like there was anything they could do, anyway. And he didn't want to make them worry, well, more. Obviously, they were worried just now.

'What is it, dear?' Wanda asked reassuringly, hoping that maybe now her precious godchild might be willing to tell her anything.  
'Yeah, anything we can do for you, Timmy?' Cosmo had a hard time going through the last night's great question mark as well. 'A car? A pony? A burning village?'  
'Cosmo…can I borrow your eel today?' the boy asked finally after quite a long moment of hesitation.  
'Sure thing, Timmy! But, why would you want the eel?' Cosmo asked, his eyes examining his pupil's face thoroughly, hoping to get any hints hidden under its surface.  
But Timmy turned his head away, green, inquiry eyes did not give him any good associations recently. He still found himself of answering, however.  
'Just in case, Cosmo… Just in case.'  
Assuming this could be seriously taken as an answer.  
Wanda noticed the boy shivering slightly as he said those words.  
Whatever it was, it had to be worse than she thought at first. This, of course, did not make her happy to say the least.  
She also registered the boy's face brightening up faintly once he had the desired eel in his hands.  
Bizarre, too bizarre to be a good sign, she could tell.


	3. Chapter 3

Timmy was occupying his console, not really focusing on the game, but in an effort to clear his mind. Of course, it did not work, still he kept trying. It was Friday, he could sit with a pad in his palms for at least two days in a row, and he would do so if he was certain it would eventually help. So far it didn't, it really, really didn't. He offered his gaming system some useless violence. He found it almost relieving, so he got up in an attempt to kick it instead of just hitting the floor with his pad. But not a single kick was given-the doorbell rang, and it had to have something to do with him, since he clearly heard his parents calling his name, their tone implying certain urgency. The boy sighed, gave his soon to be victim a last glare and got down the stairs, rushed to the door where he met his father, his dumbfounded gaze and something inappropriate staring at him from the doormat.

'Tell me, son, why is there a baboon at our door? Is it Dinklebergs's?'

'No, dad. Trust me, it's not theirs' the boy answered, stabbing the said baboon with his poisonous glare, perhaps the most poisonous glare a child can only give to a baboon.

It's not that Timmy had anything against baboons. It's just that there were certain unnerving thing about that very one. Perhaps it was the fact that it had navy blue fur and the eyes like a pool of absinth. Or the reason could be it staring at him with something boldly sexual -so untamed and uneasing Timmy couldn't tell whether it was too beast-like to be human, or too disgracefully human to be signed to an animal. Or maybe it was simply because of the goddamn baboon being Anti Cosmo, nothing more, nothing less than that.

'And you know this-how?' his father demanded.

'It's my classmate's' he kept on making up subsequent parts of his answer as he spoke. 'I'm taking it for a walk sometimes so I can save some money to get you and mom a surprise gift.'

'How cute of you, Timmy!' his mother interrupted, for once smiling both at the boy and the mysterious baboon. 'What is this gift?'

'A surprise gift ' the boy said flatly as he crossed the threshold. 'I better get going, it's getting impatient, so...I'll go, circle a bit around the neighborhood, drown it in a river and I'll be back by bedtime.'

'Timmy, we don't have a river anywhere near here' the father noticed matter-of factly.

'I guess I won't be back by bedtime, then. Bye, mom and dad' Timmy said, his voice sulked suddenly as he eyed his parents and then fixed his gaze on the baboon, which in fact was getting impatient. 'It's been great knowing you, guys' he said eventually, still looking at the animal, not on them. And then he shut the door behind himself just like that and left without a warning.

He kept on marching, his muscles tensed from anger, with the baboon-Anti Cosmo running around his legs, eventually making him trip and fall on the ground, He couldn't get up, because now, the man in his usual form pinned him down, just as he planned. The boy's face didn't bother to express any new emotions, but it was, however, white because of rage and some other emotions his consciousness didn't process yet. Fear was one of them, but strangely – it was not the one to dominate.

Timmy heard the man laughing, his voice causing the boy's face to twist in disgust.

'Drowning me in a river, is that so? It's hardly been a day and I've missed you so much, lad. Just look how happy you make me! And not only that, saying farewell to your parents as if you're not going back, how moving!'

'And am I going back?'

'Well of course you are, cupcake. But surely not by bedtime!' This made the man laugh even harder, in a definitely creepier tone. The way he pronounced the word bedtime made everything more than obvious.

'I am so not okay with this' Timmy stated firmly, but still not really believing it would change anything.

'Thank gods I don't care' and he was, apparently, right. Not that it made him any better. 'But, speaking of caring, when I saw that marvelous scene...it was a catharsis! My delicious friend, you work on me like an ancient tragedy. I even felt sorry for my cruel actions made against the untouchable sacrum of your childhood!'

'Oh, did you?'

'Yes. Fortunately it went away when I got you in my arms now.'

'Great. Make it come back then and leave me alone.' Timmy muttered.

'Never' was the murmured reply, given directly to the boy's ear. Directly enough for Anti Cosmo's lips to make contact with Timmy's skin. 'Never' action got repeated, on what Timmy cringed a little. A little, because he couldn't move a lot. 'Don't you ever think of it again' this statement, or then again -this warning was subtly louder. Most likely because the mouth saying it wandered to the lowest part of his neck. 'Because I won't' the mouth sunk there finally, tainting him beyond recognition. And there was nothing little Turner could do about it.

'Stop abusing me...'

No reaction.

'In places where people can see me' Timmy added with resignation and turned his head away in shame.

The man chuckled victoriously into his poor chest. He then raised his head, eyed the boy, took his wand out of his pocket and said enigmatically:

'You make me proud. You've got no idea how badly' With these words he transferred them both into the disturbing garden again.

It didn't change a bit since his last visit. It seems that Anti Cosmo didn't think about doing anything with it after all. Still, an interesting thing – Timmy could finally see how huge the place was – it had a big pond of its own. How did he know? He was in it, apparently. Not directly in the water, but in a boat. He was not alone also – it were not his own hands that abused his thighs and he wasn't sitting on a bench, but on that British scoundrel's lap, with his own legs spread against his will. While the foreign hands kept getting closer to where he really did not want them to be, Timmy also realized that he was wearing something different than the clothes he left in – the stimulus reached his bare skin, so it meant one thing only: he was wearing that shorts. Again. So that's what they were for.

Well, now that he has already found his place in the new situation he decided to react.

'Paws off, creep!'

'That's how you speak to your host just after you enter his place, boy? Did not your most honorable mother teach you what is right? What do you have against my generosity? Why do you fight it when I'm only doing you a favor?' The man rose his voice, but whether it was just kidding or a real grudge awaken Timmy did not know.

'There's no favor in it, it's not me you're pleasuring, it's you. Speaking of which, my most honorable mother taught me also not to get involved into any kind of sexual behaviors before reaching the age of thirty-one'

'You should be grateful that it is still accurate to add "a favor", I'd be pleasuring myself if I cut the sentence right before it!' To explain what he precisely meant he finally reached the forbidden zone and forcefully what he found there. 'Fear not, we'll get there. Fuck your honorable birth giver, she can't count ' he ended flatly.

The boy stiffened in something between fear, shame and anger. He had no idea what to do. And the hand still was there. One, but it was still too much.

'Hand off.' Timmy growled.

'One's off, it's called a compromise and it is a widely suggested thing by psychologists.'

'Do they also advice child molesting, huh?'

'It would not be molesting if you finally agreed to my actions and submit yourself peacefully.'

'And I won't.'

'See? You are the one making problems here. I won't do this, won't do that…! And you can't even come up with a reason of your over exaggerated animosity! What are you so afraid of? That I'll get you pregnant?'

'I don't want you! I'm too young for anybody and I don't even like guys! And I don't want to get hurt and…raped…' Timmy sighed, nearly whispering the last word, mostly out of fear, which finally began to take the lead.

He tried to get his legs shut, but he failed.

Anti Cosmo snorted and removed his hand, placing it in a moderately safer area – Timmy's knee.

'We're making a circle here. Again, it's not rape if you say yes.'

'Which I'm not saying.'

'Thus you're asking yourself to get raped. End of story.'

'You're wasting your time, go to your wife.'

'My wife is a waste of time, child. She went crazy all over that brat, poor thing nearly lost her interest in supporting her basic survival functions. Then again, I think I may have done the same thing, just with a different designate' Anti Cosmo chuckled into the boy's neck. Other than moist, the said boy could feel some sort of helplessness piercing through the harsh voice. But he did not understand, not a thing. Even the surface semantic of the heard words were something foreign for him, not to mention the things that were actually beneath them.

'Different what?'

'Ah, you discharge so much pheromones I almost forget you are a child.'

'Not pheromones. Fear.'

'Excites me all the same. In general, that is. In my good will, which I have for you only, I may satisfy us without inducing more fear. I am this good for you. Normally I like to watch people suffer.'

'So I guess you've gotta like what you see now.'

'I'm not harming you.' The man's tone sounded both surprised and offended.

This was the very first moment where Timmy actually started to believe the Anti Fairy was so separated from reality that the ideas of sex, lack of consent and minors combined have never occurred to him as wrong so far. That was a one thing. The fact that it didn't seem like he would change his mind any time soon was way more of a threat. The boy only hoped that prolonging the nonsense conversation will make the man forget about performing any further actions. That blue-balled bastard liked to talk, and he liked it a lot. If he likes it more than sex (Timmy cringed when the word finally had to run through his head) – he was safe. Or at least less endangered.

'Yes you are. Even now.'

'Am I?'

A pair of green eyes gleamed with joy, while a mouth nearby sneered as a result of a forbidden hand going back to its favourite place. Being there, it induced friction. The invaded body struggled uneasy and terrified of what it was treated with.

The other blue hand got locked on Timmy's chin, so it could make the boy face the desired direction. Face it unwillingly it had to be added, since most of his energy the kid was wasting on looking away in great shame.

'Now, boy' the sharp voice got his attention 'look into my eyes and say this is a bad sensation.'

Having this said, the man fastened the pace of his actions.

The poor victim, shocked, ashamed and unsure hid his face in his torturer's chest, which was unfortunately the nearest thing to hide in, tremble and sob.

'This isn't good' he finally managed to murmur into the vest, with his voice breaking and shaking for multiple conflicting reasons.

But Anti Cosmo loved what he saw more than he loved anything in the world, at that very moment-himself included. He laughed like a madman while the boy sobbed some more, paused both by spasms and pointless efforts to stop breathing at all.

'Now, to make it official' the needy beast said finally, as it lowered its mouth to the boy's once more for an obvious reason. Oddly, it was not given for it to play around like previously, because the sudden realization of what was about to happen in addition awoke him from the torpor and forced him to the way to defense himself in the way he was prepared just in case.

Before he would even think of it, the hungry predator got electrocuted by an other beast: the eel.

The man jumped away at first, crushing the fragile animal in his palm at the same time. He threw it then away and gazed upon the child with silence.

And there was something in those eyes that Timmy already knew screams and verbal threats would be better. More – they would be salvation. Anti Cosmo made few steps back, nearly to the edge of the boat, shaking his head in disbelief. Or maybe he was just saying "_no_" to himself in his thoughts. Or perhaps, that could be a "_don't_" – Timmy tried to figure out. A second later the boy already knew: it was a "_don't_" that didn't work. A self-don't to be precise, as in "don't go near him, you can't control yourself now" or something like that. Whatever it was, it was not enough.

Before little Turner could blink, he was violently brought down all four, violently pulled by his fragile pelvis, shorts instantly torn in a half, legs spread, mind bracing for impact.

But it did not happen. He stiffened like that, humiliated, still waiting, afraid to look behind. Seconds passed however and the only thing he got in contact with was rain, which rapidly evolved into a storm.

He was alone on a boat, in the storm and half naked. Time passed and he was soaked, the water and the boat were uneasy and the thunders were getting too near to the water. Yet, there was something more to it – a new sensation – the worse. He blamed everything – his mind, a fever, the water and the Son and the Holy Ghost even – he felt as if he was falling apart, literally. Which meant that he was about to die. This, unsurprisingly made him cry. Cry aloud, at the top of his lungs, scream out things incoherent, but the hated name between them. Loud enough for the name's owner to hear and react after some time – when the man got sure it was possible for him to go back there and not do anything he might consider a bad move or even regret in the future. He thought that the terrified child was shouting out sheer nonsense, but he couldn't been more wrong. The stitches were falling apart indeed. He had no time to process it, he could only fix it and fast. But before he did his job, he decided to take a last opportunity. First, he tried to calm the child down:

'It's just shock and fear, there's nothing wrong with you, I know what I see.' This time, lying was not as easy as usual. He knew what he saw, that's right, but it was something different from what he said it was.

'But I'm gonna die!'

'No you're not, it's just the fever, ignore it and fear not.'

Whatever it was, it was no fever.

'AC, why are you crying?'

'I'm not, it's the rain.'

It was no rain either.

'Does it mean that-'

'Shh. Be quiet. It's nothing. Just your imagination. Kiss me and it will go away. Trust me, I promise.'

In panic, the boy thoughtlessly obeyed. While leaning into the so long desired kiss, the man grabbed his wand and without a sign began to heal the bleeding wounds. All of them. Then, also using magic, he put the boy to sleep. He looked down at the crimson water filling the boat, then at the pale child. He hid his face in his palms, also red, again. He had no idea this would happen. What's worse- he had no idea why would it happen. Could it be that he triggered it unwillingly?

He sighed. Then he gazed upon his precious prey once more and decided to teleport him home for tonight and not to touch until he figures out what actually happened and why. This was going to be hard, Timothy was too tempting to leave him be. For long.

** ** 88 88 88 88 88

The boy woke up eventually, shocked by the fact, that he was in his bed, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall how he got there in the first place. He looked out the window, it was the middle of the night. He noticed a piece of paper on the desk. He noticed also that there was something written on it, he turned his night lamp on began to read:

" Happy birthday, lad."

'It's not my birthday!' Timmy said out loud.

"Trust me, it is." The sign changed instantly.

'And?' the boy inquired.

"I have a gift for you. From now on you may wear long pants."

Timmy thought hard upon it, but he couldn't connect it with anything recent. All he remembered was landing in the garden. Did something, something bad happen again?

'Why?'

"It will be safer this way."

'Why?'

"It shall undoubtedly have a better outcome for you, trust me on this one, I promise, it is for your good only and there is no need for any suspicion."

…_Trust me_

_I promise…_

And then the memories came back, all of them. He realized what had he done in order to save himself.

He fell to the floor with a loud thud. This woke up Cosmo and Wanda, who terrified by the view began to ask instantly. The first question was Wanda's:

'What happened Timmy?'

'I just earned long pants.'

And it was the only given answer.


	4. four

Anti Cosmo tried to avoid that moment on purpose. Even he was not fond of that certain place, no matter how much he liked to send people there for never ending holidays. He shook his head, that was not it – not the place in itself – it was rather neutral; at least in his quite grotesque standards of normalcy it was – the real discomfort was in fact the host. Somehow it was hard to tell what was so unnerving about him. By the means of logic there was nothing the Anti Fairy ought to be scared about: they both had the powers to kill, they both were immortal in a way, they both were unpredictable to say the very least. The man mused upon the possible options: while he was only a powerful wielder of the life ending force -the one he was about to meet with was the force itself, that's one thing – but it was not relevant to his fear in any way. In fact, he was quite grateful for the said power existing so he could use it as he god damn pleased. Secondly, he could be killed, yet there was nothing he could do to the other – still, not the point – life in general? His own life? He couldn't care less. It had to be the latter: Anti Cosmo functioned on both reason and emotion, due to which he could shift his mind, change his thoughts and decisions just like that. The other creature never seemed to show emotions, at least there was no possible way they could interfere with his actions. This was the worst: you can't make good business with someone who never takes a side, who can never be bribed, who is always informed and pulls consequences out of the slightest acts of insubordination. He was the perfect opposite to Eros – how the flickering shiny fuck Freud did manage to relate them – Anti Cosmo pondered with annoyance as he walked down numerous stairs – he had no idea. -Too much cocaine or thinking about fucking his own mother – he concluded. It was about time to end this sheer nonsense; he was about to reach his destination – he could tell because the stench of death already hit his nostrils.

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The boy, with a little help of his godparents managed to sit down on the edge of his bed. With an enormous effort he forced the terrified body of his not to tremble. He could not however find the courage to meet the worried eyes of his fairies, especially Cosmo's deep green eyes, which reminded him too insistently of an almost identical pair. And Wanda? He could not muster out even a glimpse of a look simply because he was boiling with shame and self-loathe. He wanted to throw up. In fact, he considered it the best possible idea, so without a warning he got up, locked himself in the toilet and released the insides of his stomach into the sink. The toilet seemed to be located too far away at that time. Timmy sat down on the cold floor and began to try gathering his thoughts. Dumbfounded by sheer terror or not he should have not drop his guard. Now he could consider himself not only a chicken but also a whore. Normal people would make nothing of it, but Anti Cosmo never filled the papers to get into that group. He surely considers that grotesque forced kiss a silent approval of his perverted and bizarre actions. He must be very happy right now. This means that he – poor Timmy Turner kind of sold his soul to the devil. Wait, it is worse actually. First, even the devil was once an angel so he has to have a conscience of some sort. Can't say that about Anti Cosmo. Secondly – it's not his soul that he lost so far – it's his ass. So maybe this is a sign of vanity to go body first, spirit later, but Timmy really liked his body in an untouched state the most. And if it had to be desecrated in any way – he felt better as a poor unfortunate victim of abuse rather than somebody who is willing it. And opening his god damn mouth was a fucking wet, smacky "yes", good job there, stupid. He hit his head against the wall. It didn't make him feel any better or wiser, so he regretted it right after. Turner wondered why he always had to encounter such people. Okay, so he's seen many weird things so far, but a grown-up man ravaging the insides of a little boy's mouth, being aroused because of it as if there was no tomorrow – that was way above eerie. Like, he did not even really hit puberty yet. He didn't get it. Neither he did see the point in two guys making out in general. Thinking about all of this made him feel hopeless. If something is not normal to start with – how could he possibly fix it with anything normal…? He can't tell Cosmo and Wanda. Too much shame. Plus, it might put them into danger, the Anti Fairy is obviously capable of everything. And the fact that he ended up this way? His own fault only, If he kept his mouth shut, he would not have to live as a whore from now on. Or he could have just watched the road, or stayed dead or something. Anything. But he did nothing and he hated himself for it.

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There was one thing Timmy Turner was certainly wrong about: at that moment, Anti Cosmo was definitely not happy. The fact that he has been teleported straight into Death's kingdom right before he reached it was a bad signal: it meant that he has been expected to show up there and it automatically puts him out of the "master of the situation" chair. Someone else was giving out the cards and that someone certainly knew about the reason of what had happened on the night when the rain would not go away. But could it be Thanatos? Perhaps, someone in the backseat? That would be more likely. And that would be fucking frustrating as well. But, no time for thinking. Apparently, he was about to have a conversation, and it seemed that it might out turn out differently than he had in mind, so he had to focus his wits on something else, clearly. For a millisecond spent in silence before the first words fell, he stared at his interlocutor – a man too enigmatic to stand, with his face for ever covered with a mirror – like black mask that appeared to be drilled deeply under his skin. All he could see through the glossy object was himself. Being unable to observe the one you discuss with is a great disadvantage, small changes mean a lot and they may either warn you or tell you when to push. On the other hand, there were legends about the face of Death and their point was obvious – if you see it, you're so unlucky that dying in itself is the final act of mercy. Knowing this, Anti Cosmo had to deal with it, no matter how unsetting it was. Having his ground taken away rapidly, he had no idea how to start, so he waited.

'I saved you the trouble of knocking' the Death said flatly. 'I hope you don't mind'.

'Charming courtesy, how could I mind, but I do have a doubt that it was the only reason' the man inquired.

'Not really. It's not like you appearing here thinking you're gonna surprise anyone would change your starting position. It was obvious you're gonna show up right away when your little toy gets an error and you lack the shit of an idea where it came from' this time, his voice was not flat at all, yet how it was both viciously sarcastic and calm at once seemed creepier than it normally would. 'Even if nothing would have happened, you'd be obliged to get your ass here and you know it, you just sped things up, just as expected.'

'So you say that the accident was bound to happen? What is the reason?'

Thanatos laughed bitterly for a while before he decided to reveal the answer.

'You. You and your fucking little temper. I recommend you control your emotions around the kid. If you wanna have him for long and keep your ass safe, that is. If you won't, he'll fall apart every fucking time. And if he dies – you die too. Either way I get to do my job. And since I don't like you, well, take it for a nice, warm and caring warning.'

'Wait. And why is that?'

'Now you're giving the right questions! No wait, actually still stupid, dumbass. If you bothered to get more of your blood to your brain rather than your dick it would be obvious. Did you really think you can go Nabokov on The Chosen One and nothing will happen? The Fairy Council doesn't like their chosen boy to be thrashed around, get traumatized and put into misery. Well, at least they don't when they have no profits from it. But if they see a chance, they're cool with it as longs as it stays quiet and under the sheets. Clever bastards, now ain't they?' the man laughed once again. 'Just to stay safe, the fuckers want to make an agreement under certain conditions.'

'I knew that they're no better than I am. Actually, they may be worse.'

'Actually, they have the for the greater good excuse while you don't, so fuck you'.

'But it still is hypocrisy.'

'How can you know if you don't know what the deal is.'

'So what the deal is?'

'Finally I get to the fun part: it's fucking awesome, just listen: he cannot die because of you – it breaks the agreement and you die. Everyone's so happy their poppet is alive and they want it to stay that way. To thank you, the fact that you are on the loose is ignored for the time being along with the fact that you broke a rule of not reviving shits and all which is fucking serious, but never mind that now. But since you broke that rule and I am the consequence of it you ought to stay a good boy and do your new job, which is: all of your people dead, and don't show off too much, make it look like accidents. You've got time, we've got time, we'll wait. You cannot refuse.

'Why?'

'Because fuck you, that's why. The law is on the council's side and I am on the side of law. But if you really want it to be précised, that's fine: The Chosen One is worth way more than anyone of your little scumbags taken as an individual, so all of them have to be taken down in order to repay the debt: a life has to be ended to be given to someone who's time already passed. If it's not done – the kid dies again. And if he dies – you die, because you fail as his protector, which you became after bringing him back, but this I think you knew, though you seem to be more interested in the "he's my property now" part, but it doesn't make a difference, does it? Fuck this, anyway. Are we clear?'

'Perfectly. May I however have some questions about the details?'

'Go on if you have to, but hurry with your shit, I'm busy.'

'Won't the Fairies die if their counterparts decease?'

'Normally, they would, but as I said, the Council wants merits, not complications, so they changed the law. They pushed it through the it's not the Fairies who are responsible for the situation, so they shan't be punished argument. So, they'll end up with a fuckload of Fairies and just one you to deal with in the end. Now isn't it a greater good?' Thanatos sneered.

'It sounds like a lot of loopholes have been found, too much for the retarded Council to find by themselves. Am I correct that the Pixies are also involved in creating the whole agreement?'

'And is water wet?'

'I get it. Now, how do I stop my fuck-friend from dying again? Did I really trigger this or is it just some bullshit of yours?'

'Bullshit? Your face is bullshit and your mother is a whore. Of course you did, so how will you become as calm as a lamb and as patient and understanding as god's grace itself while the kid still refuses to take dick in is up to you. The council however, trusts that you'll manage. Are you done yet?'

'No. What was the garden for.'

'An awesome way for you to both plant the souls of the ones you'll have to kill and a nice asylum to torment a poor, innocent, prepubescent child so that no one undesired would see it and the Council could easily pretend not to see. And I like flowers. And fuck you. And the council. Fuck me being the god damn messenger, actually. Well, fuck everything. I feel like going pandemic with people tonight, and you are in my way, so just get out.'

'As in –right now?' Anti Cosmo was quite dumbfounded. No papers to sign to make it official? No further threats from the council? No preferences who to kill first? No nothing?

'Yes, do I have to put a "fuck" even in such a simple command for you to understand it?' with this, Death just waved with his put – out torch and the unwanted guest found himself back in the garden. 'And stay out until I get you myself, douchebag' Death murmured to himself. 'And that goes for you too, fucking Council! The fact that you can't die doesn't mean you can fuck with me! Fuck you! I'll take down so many assholes you'll shit your robes with diamonds, then we'll see who'll be laughing. Well, metaphorically, since I won't laugh, I don't care about them anyway.'

Sadly, neither did the Council.

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Knowing all of this, Anti Cosmo was raging, anger running through his veins, rapidly replacing blood and reason. If that is how they want it – they shall get it. The most perfect and emphatic proof of the terms being accepted and the most cruel proof of his loyalty to his desires. The flawless signature. A one that will burn exactly as he does now. When signing a pact, it seems more trustworthy when done with blood. What could be even better than his own blood? Blood of someone for who he would let his own be shed. Until this night, until this very whim, until now. Now it's different. Now he was staring from a distance at an outline of the castle where he lived with his wife and only son. Now he was aiming his wand at the dark shape, his hand shaking, as the tip of his weapon burst out with flames which instantly took over the building – the one that he had built himself in order to protect what was dear to him. Now his darlings must have been on fire too, just like all of his past and present. Most likely asleep, feeling nothing, just never coming back to the land upon which the night and her children had no reign. Now he was staring at what he's done. He put down the fire, there was no use in prolonging this. No point in his home burning eternally. He knew what he did in the very first second, he was perfectly conscious and perfectly aware all along. Just a moment too late he realized it had no sense at all. Not now, at least, for it was obvious to him that it would have to be done sooner or later. But why to start with it? A pathetic attempt to cut down his bonds before it could hurt? Who was he trying to fool – of course that his spouse meant to him a lot more than the brat and the Canaan of his thighs. She was loved while he was only desired. And because of his death wish impulse she – the one that was loved all the time had to die and he got to stay with something that was nothing more than desired. The man sneered bitterly to his thoughts; at least it was still desired , craved for even more, so hard it literally ached. What a mistake would it be if it suddenly went away. Luckily for him, the delicate, soft body and its' fruits were impossible to dismiss, long time ago he did learn it the hard way. Still, he was a bastard and an asshole. The only thing he can now do is give his dead wife a statue. He did not run away from his crime, slowly he stepped inside the castle, where the sound made by his shoes were the last thing to ever echo there, no more chuckles from the admirable lips of his bellowed woman, no more cries from his malignant infant. He opened the bedroom door, and just as he thought – the fire was there for too short to get vicious, not ashes he found but bodies, oozing with the fetor of burnt flesh. He reached the cradle of his son and for the last time, he put on the musical box so his child would get his last lullaby. Then he sat down on the remains of the conjugal bed and glared in silence on the corpse of his wife. Always, when he looked at her sleeping he mustered out a smile, not even knowing it. This time his face had no expression. He was a living void and hell – he looked like one. One thing did not change in his routine however – before retraining to his works – he kissed her on the forehead. Only this time her skin had stayed on his lips. And it was a kiss he would forever remember. A kiss that would haunt him from now on, every time he would get to desecrate the boy with ones. With this as a goodbye he left the place, already knowing what he was about to do.  
The given promise he had in disregard: a change of circumstances required a change of actions. He prove his worth and he will collect his prize. Fucking the pain away was the only thing he had in mind. And he certainly was not willing to wait for his medicine.

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The boy woke up in the middle of the night, with his throat sore and aching, most likely from his constant crying, to which his fate and destiny seemed not to listen. A glass of water was what he aimed to get, but it was definitely not what he would be given. It occurred to him in the moment he opened his eyes. When that happened, the first thing he did was letting out a scream at the top of his lungs. Apparently, he woke up in that garden again, to be exact – in Anti Cosmo's embrace. A moment of struggle. Correction: iron embrace.

'What are you shouting for, lad? It is not like such an innocent sort of interacting should you find dreadful, we've gone a bit further now, hadn't we?' the man smiled, almost sheepishly and petted the boy's cheek.

'Usually I have some time to prepare myself mentally.' Timmy scowled. 'Now let go off me, I'm in your stupid cemetery, there's nowhere I could run, anyway. Respect my personal space before I adjust to your sick ways in ruining my life.'

Anti Cosmo loosened his grip and stood up, grinning. That smile made the child uncomfortable on a whole new level.

'Fine, take your time, but don't make me go short on my patience, it's already wearing thin. You'll get many things you'll have to adjust to either way. And it is up to you whether you will let yourself adjust or will I have to make you. Today I'm in the mood where I can break all of your limbs in order to stop you thrashing around, so do not complicate things for yourself, Timothy. Take your clothes off, dear.'

Te child observed in terror as his tormenter was already nonchalantly removing his own clothing.

'I thought we had an agreement? You know, the one with long pants and not making me suffer?'

'Well it seems that in order to protect you I had to make another agreement. This will be pleasant if you'll allow it, the pain I'm saving you on the other hand is something like the thing that happened the other night, only I won't have a way to cure it.'

'I fail to see the moment where an exact reason to why you have to rape me was given or even implied.'

'You want the truth? In order to save your life and making your revival a validated action, the authorities decided that my wife and son have to die and they did. They were sacrificed to save you, I had no idea it would turn out this way. Now the only thing I'm left with is you. You owe me even more than you thought, child. You in fact owe me more than you will be ever able to repay. Giving both of us some obliterating pleasure is all I demand. And I will have it granted, with your approval or without it. It's just that I really do not want to treat you with any actual violence. Now strip. Do as I say and it will be entertaining.'

'I didn't ask you to bring me back' the child replied silently, with hopelessness piercing through his voice as he disposed of his undergarments. Although naked, he managed to cover most of his body somehow, as if he was ashamed of it or of in fact – himself for allowing all of this.

The man smiled at the view with approval and nodded a few times to express it. He then created a bed, a replica of his own in the middle of the high dark grass, pointed at the child and on it and removed the last of his clothes vigorously.

He stood before the boy in all his grace, manhood already erected and throbbing urgently with lust, face however concerned and curled in a grimace. Turner was crying and a blur was the only thing he did see. Anti Cosmo had two options. He could either proceed ignoring the view, which would make the kid miserable only for a while, but forever the victim or he could use his powers, that would make Timothy yearn for more of the pleasure, but also make him most likely lose his self-respect, his reason and a chance for salvation, putting him into eternal misery and damnation. There was, of course, option three – letting him go, but he was not a man good enough to do it, he never intended to be, anyway.

'Fine. To summarize, since you're not willing to cooperate you're going to get down to my nerves and when it happens, bad things happen. Not because I do them – because it is a price that is paid when somebody is being resurrected. We both know we do not want them to happen, so there is only one solution. But most likely it will cripple down your soul. For you will hate me and you will love me. You will despise yourself yet you will please yourself.' He took out his wand, and shot the child with some sort of light beam, Timmy already knew he had cast a spell on him, it made him stop crying, but it made him even more stressed. What did he mean?

Anti Cosmo laughed bitterly, and yet, there was not a smile on his face left, it was disappointment.

'The war is on. It's between you and you.'

'And I lose?'

'You already did.'

Having this said, with no further warnings he attacked the boy's mouth and body with his hungry palms and lips and after the very first moment their bodies came into contact Timmy already knew what he meant. He hated it all the same if not more, but it was so eerily pleasant his body wouldn't fight it. He mewled into the mouth of his torturer and at the same time his fresh, still dropping tears made the blue lips tingle. What was the worst – Turner knew that it was hardly the beginning, but he could already speak of himself in past tense. It was the fall. His fall. So he was fallen. But every single touch kept burying him deeper into the bottom. His soul was broken, but his body was as lively as never before, offering itself with disgraceful generosity, welcoming every single action taking upon it. He was waving like an enraged sea, his hips completely synchronized with the movement of the invader's body. He was breathing heavily as if he was drowning and grasping for air, yet all he grasped for was more. And he could not look at it, he tried to turn his wet eyes away all the time, to see nothing but the horizon, but he was never allowed to, for all too soon a pair of lips had to find something worth complex exploring in his mouth, and the mouth always found it compelling. The mind however, never agreed with its inferior counterpart, suffering and drowning in shame and curling in agony. It cried to the body to regain its consciousness and conscience, but it was deaf. The soul screamed on as it writhed in woe and for just a millisecond as if in shock – it shut up. It went mute when he came. They both did: the man and the exploited body. The boy was lying down trembling, crying and vomiting. It wasn't even all that much because of Anti Cosmo – he has been a fiend, nothing unexpected. It was himself that he could not stand – that within himself he held a demon – he had no idea of. Apparently when awaken, the beast could effortlessly stun him and lock him up inside of he did not even know what. And he already knew – the hated demon will without a fail rise up from the lair in his disgusting loins and conquer his sanity every time it shall be commanded so by its one and only master and life – giver, Anti Cosmo the motherfucker. What hurt the most that it was not his own actual weakness he had no chance to fight against, it was a fake one, placed into him by magic, but it already poisoned him to the bone, filled his every cell. He himself was becoming the cancer that was both killing him and in a mad way – keeping him alive, or at least physically functioning in the way the living do. So he was the Schrödinger's cat: both dead and alive, both fucked and screwed, pleased and repulsed, freed and locked up. But on at least in one thing about himself he did not have an inner conflict – he hated both the body and the soul: first for being weak and easily led into corruption, the latter for its impuissance and apparently moral foundations made of bullshit since it was not enough to resist the fuckstorm. Normally, he would consider the previous sentence that had just ran through his thoughts sheer abstraction, funny, but pointless. How sickeningly hard it was to acknowledge that it described his life now, with more than nauseating precision. He was staring at the pitch- black night sky. A hand was caressing his face. He wanted to bite it in exchange, but he was too exhausted. Or maybe he just didn't want the touch to stop. A biting? He could really serve that if he tried hard enough.

'It could get only better or only worse. It is a choice of yours how do you lose this little war. Choose wisely. You won't regain your sanity, I find it pointless to fight for' finally said the lips that mere minutes ago had definitely better things to do than talking.

The boy really did not like them talking. On this all of the Turner universe – spiritual and physical were consentaneous: there was no good in him emitting words.

'Up yours' was Timmy's exactly philosophical reply.


	5. Chapter 5

The heat has worn off. Breaths were once again normally steady. The hand that has been attempting an act of forced caress upon a delicate but burning face, now lingered motionless somewhere between the boy's arm and his chest. It finally became clear to both of them how awkward their situation was. Not that long ago the possibility of those events coming true was comparable the one of an enormous dinosaur colliding with the Earth and making it fall out of the solar system. It's not something anyone might think of. Just as neither of the two ever entertained the thought of what does one actually say after either being unwillingly fucked raw, having the additional knowledge that it will happen again, or what should be said after fucking someone raw against his will, while trying to be friendly. There is no amount of curses and swearing or reassuring and convincing words that could possibly bury the crater after the impact. No words that could reconnect a malfunctioning body with a dislocated soul even existed.

Being wise enough to understand at least that, the anti fairy stared at the boy's face with undisturbed silence, while the child had no will for their gazes to meet. To avoid those curious and obdurate eyes, the boy kept looking at the blue, somewhat wrinkled palm that rested on him and he almost was interested in how different his own body – young and fragile, and his occupant's – harsh and seasoned – were. They did not match. Not in a million years. It was more than obvious that it was not normally possible to feel any physical good from their intercourses. It was disturbing to register that whether it could or could not be – it did feel good physically, even good enough to provide a temporary psychical distraction. Overall, this was indescribably repulsing, more than his heart or his skin could ever confess.

He was still lying naked and it was beginning to feel cold – in a bed or not – he was still in an open space, after all. But it was not the true problem. Having enough of the contact was his real issue. Timmy began to shift uneasily in an attempt to get up – it was slower, clumsier and took longer than it normally should. He glanced back at the man after all just before he was about to take the first step.

Anti Cosmo smiled widely in reply. Having the boy ask for his permission, even if it was not verbalized, was so perfectly pleasant it brought him a physical satisfaction. He watched as the child took several steps deeper into the high grass, with his face turned at the dark sky and the distant line of horizon. The horizon seemed to stare back, loathing. The man stood up as well and stepped closer to the child, he had no actual idea why he did that exactly. Perhaps he wanted to see him better. In an attempt to clear his mind from unsetting thoughts he examined Timmy's fair skin with his eyes. He noted the goose bumps, hair waving delicately on the mild wind, a slight curvature of the child's spine, and of course, he could not miss the fresh scars after the stitches and the pink, probably still hot marks that were left when his grasp was too fierce and he had lost the feeling of his actual strength. So badly he did not want to let go, didn't want his boy to slip away, even though he had him literally impaled on himself. That was much more than a quarter ago. Those marks would soon be bruises. Obviously, little Turner must have been aware of this as well. He surely was in pain. But his hands were hung loosely, numbly and his mouth was mute, as if he disconnected himself from his body and from his pain, guilt and experience. How foolish of him to think he would run away. How inadequate. Anti Cosmo smiled bitterly at the back of his absentminded boy. He leaned closer and put his palm on Timmy's shoulder and without a second thought started to pet his neck with a thumb. He thought it would be a somewhat loving thing to do, but he did know damn right that that was still more of an act of reminding and putting back into one's place. One stroke said _I need you _but the next ones added _and I will have you again and again and again_. He sealed his message with a kiss on the soft space behind the boy's ear and whispered into it 'Hush now'.

Apparently, hushing now or anytime soon was the last thing Turner intended to do. He began to shake, formed his palms into raging fist and without turning back, hissed ferociously at him:

'Stop it. Right now, stop. And never try again.'

Now that was intriguing. Actually, it has been far from expected, when it came to possible reactions. The man's hand retreated as he wrinkled his brows in disbelief.

'Stop what exactly, dear?'

'Exactly this!' the boy exclaimed, his voice trapped somewhere between groaning and screaming. 'Playing the parental figure! It won't work, won't help' he sighed and broke into tears.

In an instinct guided reply, the man embraced him from behind. He knew it was a bad idea, but he didn't have a better one. In fact, he had no idea at all. The boy's body stiffened as if he was entwined in barbwire and a slightest move would make him suffer. In an act of undeserved mercy Timmy decided to elaborate on his thoughts although he was convinced it would not change anything.

In between heavy sobs, he managed to speak. 'If you only understood how insane it feels. You hold me in your arms, thinking you bless me with your fucking care and attention and you forget that at the same damn time we are both naked and I do feel your…thing touching my back. In a second you can change your sick mind and use me again, where will your love and care be then?'

Anti Cosmo could not deny. It was a good point.

'Why can't you believe me lad, when I tell you I can merge those?' He asked, convinced that he would do so. Was not that what people do? ' According to the popular belief, these do not exclude themselves. It is worth giving a try' he reasoned.

'Last time I believed you I ended up pressed down by your weight and your mad panting, while we had it clear we wouldn't have stuff this way' the boy stated flatly. 'But it's not my point, you know' he went on, with his voice oddly and alarmingly void of any emotion whatsoever 'care is what I have my family for. There already is one fairy godfather that does his job just fine. And he does it without any fucking.' Finally he began to fidget as a sign that he needed to be let loose right now. Anti Cosmo didn't fight that wish and let him go.

Timmy faced him at last and as he did so, he subconsciously scanned the man's figure as he spoke. 'You on the other hand' he said straight into Anti Cosmo's slightly parted lips 'wouldn't give it a second thought' he told the somewhat still slim, but layered with a noticeable and notable amount of both fat and trained muscle chest 'to take me again right now' he spoke to the hairy, iron thighs ' if I gave you a sign that I want it' he stated firmly and angrily, biting his lip, with his eyes fixed on the lower abdomen and the crotch, even though he could swear he was convinced that he looked the man bravely into the eye all along.

Anti Cosmo's gaze in exchange was very cautious and deliberately registering every involuntary thing that his little boy did. He wanted to laugh, but the forced seriousness of the conversation allowed him only to smile subtly in a malicious manner.

'I will never fail to fulfill such an urgent and compelling wish of yours' he replied.

'I was sarcastic enough, you don't have to play along.' Timmy snapped.

'I wasn't.' Anti Cosmo answered sharply. 'Because you weren't being sarcastic. You were being a hypocrite.'

'No.'

'Wait, you still are ' the man noticed, smiling a bit wider. ' Or are you still fighting?'

'Fighting what?' The boy snarled viciously.

'This is getting pathetic, you know.' Anti Cosmo sighed with disappointment.

'And you already are.'

This was the point where the man could not contain his reactions anymore and began to laugh. Not because what the child said was amusing – it was not. Because it was stubborn and stupid. Too stupid to bear with.

'Yet you outrange me with the level of how pitiful you are. You bark at me like there is no tomorrow but if I touched you right now you would only want more and take more. And you won't have to ask me twice to prove it to you, so as long as you wish to keep the façade of the holy virgin, be careful about what you dare me with.'

'There is no tomorrow.'

'Say something this stupid once more and there won't be.'

'You made me become this. What you're trying to force me to believe is still not true.' Timmy ignored the threat. Now Anti Cosmo was a hypocrite. Actually, according to the boy, he was the only one around. 'What it does' the boy said, pointing at his body 'is not what I do'.

'It's funny how I don't hear you whining or asking me to stop when your body' he said that mockingly, his fingers making inverted commas 'and I are at it. What you believe is not what you do.' The man smirked triumphantly.

Turner on the other side, considered this conversation acquire the state of more of a nonsense and semantic distortion than it ever should be allowed to, so feeling helpless, yet still correct, he decided to discontinue this preposterous small talk. The small talk that got too big.

'No reply to that?' Anti Cosmo mused.

'I'm going to get dressed' the boy tried to cut it.

'No reply to that' he stated as if it was a seal to a political agreement of some sort.

It was literally itching the poor boy to actually serve a sufficient reply to that, but he was afraid it would cause him even more trouble. So having his mouth shut, he proceeded to put his nightclothes back on his hideous, filthy traitor of a body. He knew better and he didn't have to prove anything to that man. In fact, if there was anything to prove anywhere it was his body that needed a sign of innocence and a lesson about where it's place was.

Anti Cosmo frankly speaking did not need or even want a reply to that being said. The ear ripping silence was the best one there could be made. The moral fall of the sacred child chimed in his mind like heavenly music.

They both were partially right.

Being partially right, though, is what makes people wrong.

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The man was tired, yet content with this night's events. He teleported the sour-faced boy of his back to his silly little home in which – as the child got proven somewhat wrong – he still could not feel as in a fortress.

Timmy Turner cursed at his house angrily as he found himself right behind it's door with only half-lights around to show him his way and an irritating mongrel in a monocle at his side to make sure he would safely in his bedroom. Or at least so the boy was told.

"Safety" he snorted in his mind, chewing and tasting the meaning of the word once it got stuck in his mind, confronted with the given circumstances. It was bitter if he was to describe it, and cheap if he was to price it. It was a blatant lie. A cardboard box gave a greater illusion of safety than this.

As he reached the area of his room he shut himself in the bathroom and once more performed the ritual of pointless detoxicating himself with fleshburning hot water. He found the pain too much to take, o he cut the water off to at least put some soap onto himself. The body was aching and almost crying, too tired to defend itself against it's cruel master, who paid no attention to it's woes and scrubbed it harder and harder. It was a miracle it survived the final portion of the damn boiling liquid. Yet it still was far from clean, Timmy knew. He also knew it would never be. He didn't know how to punish it more. He didn't as well know he would not be in his room alone when he got there. He expected the anti-fairy to leave him be. He demanded it.

What Anti Cosmo demanded, on the other hand, was an answer. Actually, an explanation. And it better was a good one.

'What have you done to yourself' he spat, when he saw the child back in the bedroom, standing weak, exhausted, burnt red, and apparently mindless as well.

Turner didn't care to answer. The question didn't sound like one, anyway. 'Get off my sheets. I wanna go to bed' he simply informed. In a blink, he didn't even see it when or how, he was in his bed, but far from the way how he wanted it. With the greeneyed man pinning him down so rough he could see white traces on his skin, he could only stare back at him. He looked infuriated. His eyes were now just tiny slits, and his lips were thin as a simple line. That face served a portion of contempt, one the boy found hard to swallow and even harder to understand. So in exchange, his delicate, swollen face presented bewilderment only. Noticing this, the man was kind enough to explain.

'My boy, the only thing of value of mine. I have already told you repeatedly not to fight. You are a lost cause. You will not be pure. Burning yourself with water is nothing but a farce. It's not sacred fire. You have a price and I will not stand watching you depreciate yourself like this. It's a waste of time, trying to fool yourself like this.' Having this said, his tone something between concern and a preaching, he took out his wand and healed the boy. With the same wand, he then removed both the boy's and his own undergarments.

Timmy sighed heavily as he watched the man relocate himself between his thighs once more. Basically, it was all he had the power to do physically. He found speaking pointless. It's impossible to sound and be taken seriously if speaking with your legs spread and leaned against somebody's shoulders. Besides, he was a hundred percent sure, the bastard wasn't done talking yet. And he was right.

'So thoughtless of you, lad' the man laughed. 'How would you ever possibly keep up with me with that showers of yours. I could take you while you were still in the cabin. I'll fix that now. And I'll ensure you will stay dirty with this sin for as long as I please.'

The boy had a sudden idea, which came up right before the sharp tooth mouth was about to destroy his own with filthy kisses.

'You can't do this here, my parents and godparents will find out and you'll be screwed' he said and it sounded like hope mixed with triumph.

'Yes, I can and I will' and it sounded like not giving a fuck. 'I'm short of time, I have chores to take care of, so excuse me if I won't please you fully this time or explain why am I allowed to do as I wish.'

Timmy wished for his magical fish not being able to hear him moan. Timmy wished those moans weren't involuntarily coming out of his mouth or inside Anti Cosmo's when he was claiming the rights to him and making him eerily shiver in ways that were new and forbidden.

Right in the middle, the man stopped his actions and sneered at the surprised child.

'Excuse me, for I have other dead people to attend ' he said, as he casually got himself out and got dressed.

Timmy's body was still needy and not satisfied. It was raging. It was jealous.

Timmy's mind was relieved and tired. The only thing he wanted was to get some peace and a way to prolong it.

'Who?' the question echoed around the room, but the boy did not really know which part of him actually asked it.

'My wife and my son. Because I've apparently forgotten. Good night.' Anti Cosmo left, poofing himself out of the room, giving no space for any further questions to be given.

Inside Timmy there were two stings once those last words were given.

One to his soul: how could forget about his family, especially in these circumstances, it was unthinkable and he felt sorry for the unfortunate spouse and offspring who died.

And one to his body: how could there be thought about anybody else in a time like that, when the time was his and his only. It felt angry and disappointed.

Timmy didn't move for the rest of the night.

It was a fall. A very hard one.

One that breaks bones, minds, walls and hearts.

And blows the illusions away.


End file.
